


Give Me Mercy

by SlasherFiend



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biphobia, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Come Eating, Derogatory Language, F/M, Gun Violence, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Original Character(s), Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Rape Aftermath, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski Feels, Stiles Has Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:57:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlasherFiend/pseuds/SlasherFiend
Summary: A unknown person sneaks into Stiles's room at night and touches him. The next day at school he figures out who it is and freaks out. Lydia is concerned and wants to keep an eye on the boy who did it. The boy wants to get close to Stiles, but a supernatural emergency springs up and everything spirals out of control from there.





	Give Me Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> If you skipped the tags, this story contains rape, so turn back now if you're not ok with that.  
> Stiles has some thoughts about Lydia, but the stydia is platonic because I didn't want to push them given the direction of the fic.  
> The tags are a mess but I tried to cover everything.

Stiles lay curled on his right side, facing his bedroom wall, sleeping without the comforter, it was a warm night.

 

Moonlight cast a glow over him, illuminating the white tee shirt he wore to bed. He wore light blue boxers. He was fast asleep. He didn’t hear the swing of his door opening, or the soft footfalls come towards his bed.

 

The person approached, slid onto the bed, pressing up against Stiles, one leg wrapping around his, a black gloved hand reached around to clamp over his mouth.

 

Stiles woke instantly. His eyes widened and he wiggled, making a surprised and confused sound into the person’s hand. He tried to turn over.

 

“No,” they whispered.

 

The other gloved hand slid down his chest and he shivered, cold fear stabbing him in the gut. His heart hammered. _Who is this?_ It was all he could think, a repeating mantra as the hand slid over his boxers. Stiles grunted, squirming, trying to move out of this person’s hold.

 

“No! No, stay still. I won’t hurt you I swear.”

 

Stiles’s momentary pause let the hand snake into his boxers.

 

Stiles jerked as the hand gripped his limp cock. He snuffled angrily into the glove over his mouth.

 

“Shhh. Just relax.” The guy pressed closer.

 

Stiles knew it was a guy because he could feel a half hard cock press against his lower back. Stiles shuddered.

 

The guy kneaded Stiles’s cock.

 

Stiles closed his eyes. _This isn’t happening_.

 

The kneading continued.

 

“This was the only way I could get close to you.”

 

Stiles blinked his eyes open. What did that mean? Who was this?

 

They lay there for some time; Stiles noticed the arc of the moonlight inch towards his wall.

 

The guy was hard, jerking his hips against Stiles.

 

Stiles swallowed hard as the gloved hand pulled his boxers down, he puffed into the one over his mouth. He shook his head, grunting in disagreement, trying to wiggle loose.

 

The free glove gripped his hip. “You’re relaxed, right? I mean, you got hard from me touching you, so you should be fine.”

 

 _No!_ Stiles thrashed, the guy’s hold tightened and he panted harshly against the fabric over his mouth, shouting as the head of the guy’s cock pushed in.

 

The guy groaned. “Don’t clench, I won’t last if you do that.”

 

If it would make him get this over with…Stiles clenched his body and the head popped out.

 

The guy huffed, rutting against his sore hole. “Ok, I guess maybe that will wait, some other time when you want me.”

 

Stiles really wanted to ask what he was talking about.

 

The guy continued rutting. “You’re softer than I imagined, but it’s nice.” His hand fondled Stiles’s hard cock.

 

Stiles wiggled.

 

“We should come together.”

 

Stiles shook his head over and over, hard, then got a tiny bit dizzy and closed his eyes.

 

The guy pumped, the smooth slide of the glove would have felt really amazing any other time, but right now his guts were twisted with red hot panic and shame.

 

It didn’t take long for Stiles to buck his hips up, against this guy’s hand, panting against the other still over his mouth. That made Stiles aware of how silent it was in his room, in the house, how loud he was breathing.

 

The guy grunted and puffed, “Almost there.”

 

Stiles’s stomach rolled in repulsion.

 

The guy took his hand away from Stiles’s cock. He couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little whine.

 

There was another grunt and then the guy’s hot come splashed onto Stiles’s lower back, dripping in between his cheeks. He swallowed back rising bile.

 

“Shit! That’s hot, that was so…” The guy puffed out a breath, leaning back.

 

Stiles turned to look at him and was met with a dark hoodie.

 

The free hand went back to pumping Stiles’s leaking cock. He writhed, on the edge almost instantly.

 

One flick of the wrist and Stiles came, back arching and he panted harshly against the fabric of the other glove.

 

The guy shifted.

 

Stiles hoped he was getting up to leave, because he felt just…gross. But he felt a glove tip at his entrance.

 

“Almost forgot.” The guy pushed the tip in, it was barely coated with Stiles’s come.

 

Stiles grunted and twitched, trying to pull away, he pushed his hands against the mattress.

 

The glove was pulled out and the guy’s come collected on it, before it was shoved back in.

 

Stiles cried out, the thick glove was pushed in all the way to the first knuckle and tears sprang to Stiles’s eyes. He turned to look at the hoodie again; the moonlight was too high to catch on his eyes, or the sparkling tears in Stiles’s eyes.

 

“There, until next time.” The guy pulled away from Stiles and walked over to his open door. He walked out and closed the door behind him.

 

Stiles stared, watching him leave.

 

The next day at school, Stiles was waiting by his locker for Scott.

 

Lydia was over at hers, talking with Kira.

 

Stiles tapped his hands against the lockers behind him. He was staring between the floor and the people passing. He wanted to keep his back to the lockers. He knew he could write any skittishness off as not having had his Adderall, and even his hampered mood to just having a shit day, even if it had barely started, but…

 

Someone came up.

 

Stiles looked up at a kid he didn’t know; well he knew his name, which was about it. “Hey bat-boy.”

 

The kid scowled. He had a large pointy nose and large, slightly pointy ears. He had beady eyes, like he was permanently squinting.

 

Really Stiles thought he looked like someone had stretched out Alan Cumming’s face.

 

His brown hair was parted in the middle and lay like an open book on his head. His green eyes glared at Stiles, well Stiles assumed it was a glare, it was hard to tell. “That’s not my name.” Bat-boy adjusted his backpack.

 

“Oh, sorry. It’s just-“

 

“What I’ve been called since middle school.” Bat-boy huffed. “I hate that nickname; bunch of bullies gave it to me…” He tugged at his grey Star Wars shirt. He leaned next to Stiles. “Stiles,” Bat-boy whispered. “I wanted to ask you something.” He placed a hand on Stiles’s arm; he wore his finger-less gloves that he said protected his hands when he rode his bike to school.

 

The fabric almost felt like…

 

Stiles stood up straight and backed away.

 

Bat-boy looked confused, hurt even.

 

“It was you! You snuck into my room! You-you-“ The realization crashed down on Stiles. Bat-boy, one of the loners, a loser of the school had raped him. Stiles wheezed in a breath, he couldn’t breathe; he was having a panic attack. He slid down the lockers, just barely aware of Scott shouting his name, of Scott pulling him to his feet.

 

Scott turned, taking Stiles away from the gathering crowd, towards the nurse’s office, or at least somewhere where Stiles could relax and breathe.

 

Bat-boy frowned. Suddenly heels clicked up behind him, he whirled to see Lydia Martin glaring at him.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“Wh-what?” Bat-boy could barely believe he was standing near Lydia, let alone talking to her.

 

“Stiles had a panic attack, it wasn’t by accident. So what.did.you.do?”

 

Bat-boy shook his head. “I think he thought I was someone else. I didn’t mean it, I swear.” He turned back to where Stiles had vanished in the crowd. “I just wanted to talk to him.”

 

Later that night, Stiles was fast asleep, he didn’t keep his back to the door.

 

The door opened and Bat-boy, in his dark hoodie and gloves approached the bed. He carefully rolled Stiles onto his side and slid up against him. He ran his hand through Stiles’s hair, wishing he didn’t have to wear gloves, but he had to in order to keep physical evidence off Stiles. The only marker would be his come, painting Stiles’s pale skin like white out.

 

Stiles stirred, he felt someone in bed with him. His eyes snapped open and he scrambled to get up, but Bat-boy pulled him back, once again placing a hand over his mouth. Stiles struggled in his hold.

 

“I’m sorry for scaring you at school today. I didn’t realize that you’d freak out like that.”

 

Stiles felt intense anger well up and he twisted around, shoving Bat-boy off the bed.

 

Bat-boy landed on his ass and the hood fell, revealing his face.

 

“How do you keep getting in here?”

 

Bat-boy snorted. “I’m not going to tell you that.”

 

Stiles got to his feet. “Fine, but I’m going to wake my dad and tell him what you did to me.”

 

Bat-boy blinked. “And he’ll what, arrest me? It’s not exactly statutory rape when we’re the same age.”

 

Stiles stared down at him. “It’s still rape.”

 

“Is there any physical evidence left?”

 

Stiles turned to his door; kind of wishing his dad would get up and wonder why he was talking this late at night.

 

Bat-boy got up. “You cleaned up, you probably felt disgusted.”

 

“You’re damn right I did.” Stiles’s hands were fists at his side. He was ready to fight, the white-hot anger fueling him.

 

Bat-boy nodded. “I should have known. You hate me. Everyone does, I mean why else am I a failure at popularity in school?”

 

Stiles was taken aback. Sure, he wasn’t popular, even if Lydia was a friend, he still didn’t hang around in the same circles she did. And yeah everyone was trying to reach the top of the social totem pole… “Listen, bat-boy, I’m not-“

 

“That’s not my name.” The squinty glare was back.

 

“Right, uh, so what is your name?” Stiles quickly tried to search his head to recall if Bat-boy was in any of his classes. He had to be, right?

 

“Damian. We’re in English together; I sit near the back of the class.”

 

That would explain why Stiles couldn’t remember him, because he sat near the far side of the room, with Scott next to him. Stiles went to finish his thought when Damian continued talking.

 

“I know I’m a loser, but I really didn’t mean to scare you. I just…wanted to be close to you.”

 

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. “Why?"

 

“Because…no one else may see it, but you’re gorgeous. And you’re popular.”

 

Stiles snorted. “No, I’m not.”

 

“You hang out with Lydia Martin, which means you’re popular.”

 

If only Damian knew what happened when he hung out with Lydia. Last week it had been a pair of fairies that the pack had taken on, actual tiny flying fairies.

 

Damian sighed. “I just thought this was the only way, because-“

 

“Why do you want my attention so badly that you…raped me last night?”

 

Tears welled in Damian’s eyes. He sniffled. “Stiles, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

 

Oh. Stiles felt his anger drain away. He went to get the Kleenex near his computer. He turned and handed it to Damian.

 

“I didn’t mean it.” He took three Kleenex in one go.

 

Stiles set the box down.

 

Damian wiped his eyes and his nose and shoved the tissues in his pockets. He sighed. “I just wanted…I just thought we could be friends. Since you had started out as a no body, I knew you would relate…”

 

Stiles let out a deep sigh. “I don’t think we can be friends Damian.”

 

Damian looked crestfallen.

 

“But-“ Stiles was sure he was going to hate himself for saying this later, it was just something in his gut. “Maybe we can hang out, get to know each other?”

 

Damian grinned. “Yeah! How about next Friday?”

 

“Sure.” Anything to get Damian to leave.

 

“I’ll tell you before then where to meet me.” Damian walked out of Stiles’s bedroom.

 

Stiles ran a hand through his hair and went back to bed, staring at the ceiling.

 

The next week came up fast.

 

There were math tests and such that week, along with pack shenanigans.

 

Stiles had ended up sleeping for two hours one night while doing research and then sleeping through English at school.

 

Then it was Friday, and the full moon.

 

Stiles nodded at Damian as he saw him by the lockers that morning.

 

Lydia stood nearby, watching him carefully. She didn’t trust Damian, or like him. She knew even if it was an accident he had still caused Stiles to have a panic attack and she wasn’t going to let that happen again.

 

“You’re paranoid,” Kira told her, as if she could read minds.

 

Lydia turned around. “I’m not paranoid. I’m…concerned for Stiles’s safety and well-being.”

 

“She’s not paranoid,” Malia said, lounging against the locker next to Lydia. “I don’t like him either.”

 

“See.” Lydia nodded, glad for the backup.

 

“But he hasn’t done anything, right? Just hangs around Stiles at lunch?” Kira wasn’t trying to defend Damian; just wasn’t sure there was anything to base the assumption on.

 

“And English,” Lydia supplied.

 

“And math, but I think anyone talking in there is just trying to figure out what’s going on,” Malia muttered. “Why don’t we just keep an eye on him? Or figure out what he wants from Stiles?”

 

“Scott doesn’t know and Stiles won’t say.” Kira had already asked; Scott had only shrugged in response.

 

Lydia huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

They watched Damian talk with Stiles, but Stiles looked distracted and guarded.

 

Malia slipped her claws out. “I can make him tell us.”

 

Lydia put out an arm to stop her. “Are you crazy? In broad daylight?”

 

Malia huffed and put her claws away. “I can still get him to talk.”

 

Lydia hummed, thinking. “Maybe later.”

 

Damian walked away.

 

“We keep an extra careful eye on him and any time he makes Stiles uncomfortable, we confront him.”

 

“I still don’t think there’s anything wrong,” Kira told them.

 

Lydia shook her head. “There’s something off about him.”

 

That night, the pack was out chasing harpies into the school. It was the only way to contain them.

 

Derek, Peter, and Chris were inside taking care of the harpies, while Scott and Kira were helping the wounded from swim practice out of the building. Malia was making sure there was no one left hiding in the building. Lydia and Stiles stood near the entrance, to keep watch and to make sure no concerned parents got there before the sheriff did.

 

Stiles bounced on the balls of his feet. “Fucking full moons.” He glanced at Lydia, whose flower print summer dress was torn from the harpies’ talons. “At least after tonight everything will settle down again.” Stiles put an arm across Lydia’s shoulders as a breeze blew; it was cool by the doors.

 

“Stiles?” Stiles and Lydia turned to Damian.

 

“Damian, what are you doing here?”

 

“You were supposed to meet me today.” He walked over, wearing a grey hoodie.

 

“Uh, yeah, about that.”

 

“Meet him for what?” Lydia hadn’t heard about this before now.

 

Damian turned to her. “We were supposed to hang out.”

 

Lydia turned to Stiles. “You said you could?”

 

Stiles huffed. “I forgot about the full moon tonight.”

 

“What’s so important about the full moon? Does it have to do with Lydia?”

 

“What?” Stiles and Lydia asked simultaneously. Lydia was out right confused while Stiles was a little angry. “I thought you said it was an honor to even be near Lydia.”

 

Damian scoffed. “That preppy, stuck up bitch? I said whatever I had to.”

 

Stiles punched Damian in the face.

 

Damian stumbled back, wiping blood from his lip.

 

“Don’t talk that way about Lydia!”

 

Damian laughed and punched Stiles in the gut.

 

Lydia came over, to break them up.

 

“Get away!” Damian snarled and shoved Lydia down.

 

Stiles landed a blow to the side of Damian’s head. He went down and Stiles got on his back, throwing an arm under his chin, choking him. “Lydia, go to my Jeep, get on the radio, call my dad.” Stiles fished the keys out of his pocket and handed them to her.

 

She got up and ran to the parking lot.

 

Damian coughed out a laugh. “Were you on a date? Is that what this was?”

 

“Like you care.”

 

“I do! Stiles, I really do. I mean, I thought we had something.”

 

“How did you know I was here?”

 

“Because whenever something strange goes on after hours at school it’s you, it’s always you.”

 

Stiles humphed.

 

Damian sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said, I’m sorry for pushing Lydia.”

 

“You apologize a lot, I’m wondering if you really mean it.”

 

“I mean, I would never want you to be mad at me.” Damian sobbed.

 

Stiles sighed, getting up. “You should leave. Unless you want to be arrested by my dad for assault.”

 

Damian got up, blinking back the tears and brushing himself off. “What will you tell him?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, just go.”

 

“Can we-I mean…?”

 

Stiles huffed. “Man, just-“

 

“I want to hang out, when you’re free. How about tomorrow? It’s Saturday?”

 

Stiles shook his head. “I’m going to hang out with Scott.”

 

“Oh, what about Sunday?”

 

Stiles shrugged.

 

Damian grinned; he looked ready to clap a hug around Stiles. The kid’s moods were all over the place. “I’ll come over to your house…”

“Use the front door if you do. Please.”

 

Damian nodded and took off running.

 

Stiles heard a strangled screech in the school and Lydia came running back to his side a moment later.

 

“Your dad’s a block away."

 

“Ok, we should get back in there to help.” They headed back inside.

 

Sunday had been unexpected.

 

The damage the harpies had done to the swim team had made them break out in hives, have screaming nightmares and their eyes bleed gold.

 

So, Stiles had spent time with Chris digging through the bestiary, to find out what the problem was, before heading to see Deaton for a cure.

 

The cure was finished by sun set. Then the swim team had broken out of the hospital and gone back to school. There they slammed themselves into lockers, destroyed the chemistry room, painted blood on quite a few walls and attempted to nest in the pool before the pack caught them and brought them back to the hospital.

 

Once the team was sedated and Melissa began to administer the cure, Stiles went home and collapsed into bed, even though it was eleven o’ clock.

 

The next day school was cancelled so the lockers could be repaired, the blood scraped off the walls and painted over, and the desks replaced in the chemistry room.

 

Stiles awoke after noon; his dad was already at the station. Stiles sat up in bed. Was that the doorbell? He got up, noticing he had only managed to take his shirt off last night. He’d change in a minute. He pulled a clean shirt on over his head and went to the door, calling “Just a second” as it was pressed again while he walked downstairs and through the living room.

 

Damian stood in the doorway when Stiles opened the door. His face was shadowed by anger and his green eyes were almost black points.

 

Stiles blinked. “What are you doing here?”

 

“You weren’t here yesterday.” Damian’s hands were clenched. He talked through grit teeth.

 

“Yeah…” How to explain it? “There was a problem at the hospital, a lot of people got sick. I went to be a good friend, I gave blood…”

 

“All day?”

 

Stiles looked offended. “Well no, but I was there for moral support, you know, and then-“

 

“You know what, I don’t care.”

 

Stiles frowned. He leaned against the door-frame, a warm breeze blew, tossing a wind chime two houses down. “What do you want?"

 

Damian glared. “You don’t remember, do you? I could forgive one time; I thought it wouldn’t happen again. But…” He shrugged. Somehow, he made it look angry. “If you don’t want to be my friend, at least tell me to my face instead of lying about it!”

 

“Whoa.” Stiles held up a hand, to put a pause to Damian’s rant. “I never said we were friends. Did you forget what I told _you_? I can’t be friends with someone who sneaks into my room and fondles me at night!” He drew himself up to his full height; at least he was intimidating to other humans.

 

They glared at each other for a few long moments.

 

“You want to know what I’m doing here, why I’m here? I came for you. I thought maybe you’d have a reasonable excuse, but I can see that you don’t. You’re just like everybody else…”

 

That was uncalled for, only because Damian didn’t know what Stiles did for this town. He opened his mouth to spit out a response.

 

“Maybe I should do what I had planned from the start, just take what I want. I held myself back, I was being nice-“

 

“What are you talking about?” No sooner had he asked, did a cold tendril of fear and understanding worm through Stiles’s gut. He went to shut the door.

 

Damian darted forward, placing his foot in between the door and the frame.

 

Stiles turned and ran back towards his room, to get his baseball bat.

 

The door slammed against the wall, it was going to leave a dent.

 

Stiles got to the stairs, took them two at a time and headed straight for his room, shutting the door. He didn’t know how far behind Damian was. Stiles went over to his bed. He was on his hands and knees, reaching underneath. His fingers brushed the metal of the handle and he cursed himself for shoving it so far under the bed. He grabbed it and felt hands wrap around his ankles. He tried to kick back at Damian.

 

“No, don’t move. It might be better if you stay like that.”

 

Stiles scowled and pulled himself out from under the bed, swinging the baseball bat as soon as he had room.

 

Damian ducked under the bat, already having let go of Stiles’s ankles.

 

Stiles pulled back, wiggling back to sit up against the side of his bed. He readjusted his grip on the bat, putting one hand to the floor, so he could get up and run. Then he heard a click of the safety of a gun being pulled back. Stiles froze.

 

Damian held the 22 level, finger on the trigger.

 

Stiles licked his lips, and then swallowed; his throat was dry suddenly. He went to get up.

 

“Don’t move.” Damian hissed out his words. Why was he called Bat-boy? He was more like a snake. Jackson could have been friends with him. “Put the bat down.”

 

Stiles didn’t move. Would it be worth getting shot-possibly killed by Damian-for refusing to do what he said? A voice in Stiles’s head that sounded like Scott offered trying to talk to Damian first. “There’s really no-isn’t that a little drastic?”

 

Damian moved closer, he was on his feet; he towered over Stiles, who was now sitting on the floor. “I don’t know is blowing me off twice to hang out with some stuck-up bitch and a nurse’s kid drastic?”

 

Stiles glared.

 

“Put the bat down.”

 

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

 

Damian shot a hole in the floor, near Stiles’s right leg.

 

He scrambled backwards. “Whoa!” His heart hammered in his chest and he was glad Damian couldn’t hear it.

 

Damian leveled the gun, inching closer. “Put the bat down or the next shot goes in your shoulder.”

 

“Ok.” Stiles set the bat on the floor.

 

“Push it back under the bed.” Damian crouched, too far for Stiles to kick him.

 

Stiles didn’t look as he shoved the bat back into the shadows. “Someone probably heard that gun shot.”

 

Damian smirked. “And they’ll what? Call the cops? I think a gun going off at the sheriff’s house doesn’t seem that strange.”

 

“Over seventy percent of homicides in the state involve guns, actually on the sidewalk instead of a house-“

 

“Shut up!”

 

Stiles said nothing for a moment, and then muttered, “It’ll still be strange since my dad’s not home.”

 

“Then I better make sure I’m not here when he gets here, right?” Damian let his eyes wander up and down Stiles’s body. “Take off your clothes.”

 

Stiles’s face heated in anger. “No.”

 

Damian moved, grabbing his hair, yanking his head back and pressing the warm metal under Stiles’s chin. “Do it or this is going in your ass.”

 

“You’re going to have to let me go if you want to me do what you want.”

 

Damian scowled and gave Stiles a shove before moving back to watch him get up and undress.

 

Stiles paused at his boxers, glancing out his window.

 

“No one’s going to see.”

 

“Are you sure? Aren’t you afraid of someone coming over?”

 

“No, because if I pull the blinds, there will be something off about them being drawn in the middle of the day. I’m going to keep everything the way it is, like a normal day.” He gestured with the gun. “Take them off.”

 

Stiles slid his boxers down, kicking his feet out of them.

 

“Get on the bed.”

 

Stiles did, sitting on the edge, near the headboard, reaching for the phone that was right there.

 

Damian lunged forward, swiping the gun at Stiles’s hand.

 

Stiles cried out, clutching his hand, and Damian pushed him back against the headboard. Stiles grunted, trying to push Damian away, and then the gun was pressed to his forehead.

 

“I was thinking of tying you up, but I don’t need to when the threat of death is better bondage.”

 

“Why do you even have a gun?” Stiles’s voice was calm; he had had guns pointed at him before.

 

“Why do you think?” Damian sat in Stiles’s lap.

 

Stiles didn’t want to voice how it was because of how mean everyone was mean to Damian, what that might mean. “I wasn’t blowing you off, I forgot.”

 

Damian shook his head. “You already had a chance to explain yourself, you came up with excuses and I was stupid enough to think the bond was there…”

 

Stiles frowned. “You should have said something before Scott became popular if you wanted to be friends, and what bond?”

 

Damian huffed. “Of course you don’t…”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“It doesn’t matter now; you obviously picked your side.” He unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock.

 

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not going to-“

 

“You are, I know you like things in your mouth. I’ve sat behind you to know how often you chew on pencils. Besides, it’ll get you to shut up.” He inched up Stiles’s chest, pressing the head of his cock to his lips.

 

Stiles glared.

 

Damian moved the gun, pressing it right over Stiles’s heart. “ _Do it_.”

 

“How do you know if I even like cock?”

 

“That’s not the point.” Damian huffed. “Besides everyone at school knows you’re bisexual. This way you’ll have picked being gay.”

 

“That’s not-“ Stiles started to say before Damian pushed his cock into Stiles’s open mouth.

 

“You bite down,” Damian snarled, “and I’ll rip your dick off.”

 

Stiles licked the head, and then choked as Damian thrust deeper.

 

“Yeah…you like that you slut?”

 

Stiles made a confused sound and pulled back. “I-I’m not-“

 

“Yeah you are. And don’t stop when you’ve barely even started!”

 

Stiles took Damian back into his mouth and sucked, earning a groan.

 

“You’re always making eyes at the guys.” Damian sort of explained. “And of course, you’re stuck on Lydia still.” He snorted. “Don’t know what you see in her. Unless she’s great at sex, then…” He shrugged. “All is forgiven.” He grinned wickedly down at Stiles.

 

Stiles glared up through his lashes, dragging his teeth down Damian’s hardening cock.

 

Damian hissed and wrapped his fingers into Stiles’s hair, pulling.

 

The back of Stiles’s head hit the headboard with a thunk. Stiles growled and shoved at Damian.

 

Damian sat down on Stiles’s chest, his cock sliding from Stiles’s mouth.

 

Stiles let out an ‘oomph’ and tried to wiggle away.

 

Damian moved, pinning Stiles’s hands to his side with his knees, and then muttered, “Let’s try that again.”

 

“Fuck you!” Stiles twisted his head from side to side, to keep Damian from putting his cock back in.

 

Damian snarled and smacked Stiles with the gun.

 

Stiles groaned and blinked back the pain, and then Damian pulled his head back by the hair and forced the muzzle of the gun into his mouth. Stiles breathed, smelling the faint residue from the gunpowder, his teeth grazed against the metal, and his gaze focused on Damian’s face.

 

“You don’t want to suck my cock, huh? You ungrateful whore!” His voice was calm, just loud, Stiles didn’t like where this was heading. “I poured all my time and energy into having you notice me and now you’re too good to suck me off? Well fine!” Damian moved, rooting through Stiles’s nightstand.

 

Stiles watched, really glad all the naughty stuff was buried in the bottom of his dresser drawers.

 

Damian humphed and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “What are these for?” He arched an eyebrow. “Regular sex just too boring for you, so you got to spice it up?” He snorted.

 

Stiles shook his head, but Damian didn’t notice.

 

Damian pulled the gun from Stiles’s mouth, and then took hold his shoulder and pulled him forward, over Damian’s lap.

 

“What are you doing?” Stiles wiggled, shoving at Damian, but he didn’t move, sitting on his legs.

 

Damian tucked the gun into his hoodie pocket and grabbed Stiles’s wrists, locking them in the cuffs.

 

Stiles figured it would be pointless to struggle, after all those were cuffs he practiced escaping from.

 

Damian smiled and ran a hand through Stiles’s hair.

 

Stiles flinched at the light touch.

 

Damian spread his legs out and pulled Stiles’s face to his hard cock. “I want to be leaking.”

 

Stiles took Damian into his mouth, kind of hoping some gunpowder had stayed on his tongue or lips and would find its way into Damian’s slit. Stiles swirled his tongue, bobbing a little, trying to see if any grains dragged across Damian’s flesh.

 

Damian moaned. “Fuck, should have…done this before…”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and continued. It only took a few moments before Damian fisted a hand in Stiles’s hair, legs skidding across the sheets. “Shit! Gonna’ come…ye-ah!”

 

Stiles attempted to pull back, but it was too late and Damian emptied his seed into Stiles’s mouth, he tried not to gag at the taste.

 

Damian settled back with a contented sigh and bliss overcame his face.

 

Stiles moved back, he hadn’t swallowed much and wanted to spit the rest out.

 

Damian shook his head. “Swallow it.”

 

Stiles raised his chin in defiance, glaring hard and moved backwards on the bed. He only needed a moment and he would be out of the cuffs. It wasn’t like Damian had locked his wrists over each other; he could reach the escape tab with his fingers.

 

Damian snarled, thin upper lip curling back. He reached for the gun.

 

Stiles lunged forward and spit at Damian, slipping the cuffs and pushed upward, heading towards the open door.

 

Damian whirled and fired, clipping Stiles’s right shoulder.

 

Stiles cried out and clapped a hand over his bleeding wound. He didn’t stop though.

 

Damian got off the bed and fired another shot near Stiles’s feet, making him move back against the wall. Damian approached and pressed the gun under Stiles’s chin, the barrel was warm, but not hot. Damian was back to the squinty eyed glare. “You just like pissing me off, don’t you?”

 

“Well, right now it’s my only activity I get a say in, so yeah.” He tried to ignore the faint trail of spit on his chin, coated with Damian’s come.

 

Damian shook his head. “Stupid, stupid Stiles.” Damian grabbed Stiles by the hair and forced him to his knees.

 

Stiles let out a little ‘ah!’ before he was kneeling. “You’re the one who’s stupid. Two consecutive gunshots, now you really have the neighbors’ attention.”

 

Damian grit his teeth, jaw clenching. “New plan.” He grabbed Stiles by his injured shoulder and dragged him over to sit against the bed. Damian grabbed the hand cuffs, slapped them around the bed’s leg, then Stiles’s wrist.

 

Stiles went to pop the tab when Damian kicked him.

 

“No, don’t touch that, you’ll need your other hand.”

 

“For what?” Stiles coughed and placed a hand over his ribs where Damian had kicked.

 

Damian grinned wickedly, a toothy smile pulling from the corner of his mouth. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

 

“Uh, that’s not happening.” Stiles reached for the tab again and Damian kicked harder. Stiles groaned in pain.

 

“Do it and I’ll leave.”

 

Stiles stared at Damian, to try and see if he was lying, but he only blinked in response. “Fine.” Stiles sighed. He turned to the nightstand. “I’ll need the lube.”

 

“No, you don’t, consider it punishment for everything up to this point.”

 

Stiles bit back anything he wanted to say and trailed his free hand down his belly, through his treasure trail and to his cock. Stiles sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, fingers wrapping around himself. If he could just picture Lydia-

 

“Open your eyes.”

 

Stiles slowly opened his eyes, to glare at Damian.

 

“I want you to look at me as you jerk off. You don’t need a fantasy, right? Just me.”

 

Stiles barked out a laugh. “No offense, but you’re not my type.”

 

Something shifted inside of Damian, a new dangerous spark lit his eyes, and his face was impassive. “Just get to it.”

 

Stiles stroked himself a few times, watching himself, his eyes were open, it still counted. Then he spat onto his palm and used that to ease his hand. Stiles focused on what he was doing, grunting and giving small groans.

 

After a moment, he spat on his hand again and looked up at Damian. “I thought you didn’t want to stick around here?” He hadn’t said anything about Stiles going as slow as possible…

 

Damian shrugged. “We’ll see what happens.” He was sitting on the floor, talking calmly still, it was unnerving.

 

Stiles went back to stroking himself. He bit his lip and moaned, closing his eyes.

 

“I said keep your eyes open!”

 

Stiles shook his head; he could almost picture Lydia’s smaller hand closed about his cock.

 

Suddenly he was hit in the head with Damian’s gun. “Shit! Ow!” Stiles opened his eyes and glared at Damian who was kneeling in his lap.

 

Damian grabbed Stiles’s face, turning him to look into his green eyes. “When I tell you to do something, I want you to do it! You think I’m fucking around?”

 

Stiles tried to pull away, but Damian tightened his grip, fingers digging into Stiles’s cheeks.

 

“Keep going.”

 

Stiles had paused in his strokes, but started up again.

 

“You got to be close, right? I want you to come from looking at me, not thinking of anyone else.” Damian leaned to lick at Stiles’s nipples, making him jerk. Damian hummed, biting the pink nub.

 

 _Shit, shit, shit_. Stiles knew his nipples were sensitive. “Tha-that’s not fair!”

 

Damian chuckled, biting harder and Stiles squirmed.

 

“That hurts.”

 

Damian pulled back to lick the nub again.

 

Stiles bit his lip, bit back a whine. He twisted his wrist, panting softly.

 

After a few moments, Stiles wiggled. “Damian, I’m-I-“

 

Damian pulled back and told Stiles, “Catch it all in your hand.”

 

Stiles nodded, hoping Damian would give him a Kleenex. Stiles stroked himself quickly and clenched his eyes shut, coming with a groan. He tried to sit up; the handcuff clinked and pulled him back down. He rattled the cuff. “Get me out of this?”

 

Damian blinked, like he hadn’t heard Stiles. “Lick your come off your fingers.”

 

“What?” Stiles tried to get up, even though Damian was still kneeling over him.

 

Damian huffed. “Just do it, I’m getting really tired of threatening you.”

 

Stiles smirked wickedly. “Well I know how to fix that, just let me get a hold of my dad...”

 

Damian shook his head. “You think you’re so funny.”

 

“I’ve been told I’m hilarious.”

 

Damian backhanded Stiles across the face.

 

Stiles went to touch the stinging cheek, then realized what hand he was going to use and stopped. “What was that for?”

 

“Stop fucking around and do as I tell you.” Damian certainly sounded tired of giving threats.

 

 _Good_. “Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Stiles sneered, almost mocking Damian.

 

Damian moved back to sit on Stiles’s legs. “I could break your fingers…” He turned. “Or your toes, light up your body so you respond to me.” He held the gun out over Stiles’s left foot and arched an eyebrow, as if to say ‘Go ahead and challenge me again.’

 

Stiles worried his bottom lip, and then licked the drying jizz off his palm. At least he was tasting himself, it had happened before, but it still wasn’t something he wanted to consume regularly.

 

After it was gone, he glanced up at Damian, because there was no way he would look at him through all of that. “Going to let me out now?” He rattled the handcuff.

 

Damian moved to sit next to Stiles, hand near the cuff. “Depends, I want you to let me do something that I’ve wanted for a while now. I want to fuck you.”

 

Stiles snorted. “You want my consent when you have almost taken it by force before?”

 

“I want you to want me-“

 

“That’s not happening.”

 

Damian blinked, staring into Stiles’s honey eyes.

 

“Whatever you think we have, we don’t. I can barely stand you as it is and do you really think after all of this?” He gestured between them and to the gun. “That after all of this I would want you inside me? No, no way.”

 

Damian tilted his head; the light in his eyes seemed to seep out. He turned away, were those tears in his eyes? He swallowed and turned back to Stiles, like nothing had happened. “Fine.” He moved and popped the tab on the cuff.

 

Stiles rubbed his wrist, and then suddenly Damian pulled him to his feet. Stiles wasn’t sure what was happening, was Damian done, was he going to leave like he said he would?

 

Damian pulled Stiles’s arm behind his back and shoved him face first into the bed.

 

Stiles grunted and tried to reach back, to yank on Damian.

 

Damian locked Stiles’s wrists over each other, the metal locked tight and Stiles huffed. “So ungrateful!” Damian pushed Stiles further up the bed. “I spent so much time…!” He unzipped his pants.

 

Stiles flipped over. “Damian-“

 

They both paused.

 

Was that a car door slamming?

 

Damian turned towards the bedroom door.

 

 _Is that Dad? Please don’t come in right now!_ Stiles eyed Damian’s hoodie pocket where the gun was.

 

There was a knock on the open front door.

 

“Stiles?”

 

 _Parrish!_ “Hel-!” Stiles got out before Damian threw himself on top of Stiles, covering his mouth with his hand.

 

Parrish called out again. “Are you here?”

 

A few moments passed.

 

Stiles bit into Damian’s palm, earning a hiss, and then he was flipped onto his side.

 

Damian wrapped himself around Stiles’s body like a snake. Damian pulled the comforter up and over both of them. Damian uncovered Stiles’s mouth and muttered, “Tell him to leave.”

 

They heard the crackle of Parrish’s radio as he walked up the stairs.

 

“Yeah!” Stiles finally said when Damian pressed the gun to the middle of his back.

 

“Are you ok? The front door was open and there was a report of gunshots.” Parrish came into the hall.

 

“I’m fine! You don’t need to come in here, I’m…naked!” _Please don’t come in here, you don’t need to handle a hostage situation right now_.

 

They waited for a few long minutes, slowly starting to sweat under the comforter.

 

Damian pressed the gun lower, making Stiles arch away from the barrel.

 

“I was just…messing around in the backyard with one of dad’s guns. Please don’t tell him. I forgot to close the front door after coming inside; I really wanted to shower off the residue.”

 

Parrish’s radio crackled again.

 

The two breathed lightly, waiting for Parrish to leave.

 

“Alright, just be more aware of your surroundings next time.”

 

“Yep, sorry for making you come here.”

 

Eventually they heard Parrish leave, his patrol car door slam and then Damian tossed the comforter off.

 

Stiles tried to pull away from Damian’s clammy grip. “I told you-“

 

“Shut up.” Damian ran the barrel of the gun up Stiles’s thigh, towards his flat cock.

 

Stiles held his breath, wincing when the barrel nudged his balls.

 

“You’re the worst Stilinski, worse than the bullies, you know why?”

 

“No, but I get the feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

 

Damian tapped Stiles’s cock and Stiles closed his eyes, repeating over and over in his head, _please don’t pull the trigger, please don’t pull the trigger_.

 

“You made me think you were nice enough to be friends with someone like me…That you cared…” He turned, opening the nightstand drawer. “But no! You just strung me along, providing empty promises and to think at one point I wanted to…date you!” Damian let out a humorless laugh.

 

Stiles heard him pop open the lube. Stiles shifted. “Damian, you don’t have to do this.” He turned to look over his shoulder as Damian slicked up his rapidly hardening cock.

 

Damian hummed. “No, but I want to.” He grinned; there was a twisted light in his eyes now, a darker shadow. “I want to be able to finally feel you as you let me in, I want to-“

 

“Is that lube for me?” Stiles really didn’t want to hear any of this; his heart was pumping so fast, he was barely keeping it together.

 

Damian didn’t answer and Stiles tried to roll over. Damian’s grip tightened. “No, you don’t get any. You don’t deserve it.” Damian gently rolled Stiles onto his face.

 

Stiles turned his head to not inhale his pillow. “Damian, please. Please-!”

 

“Convince me that you’re sorry and deserve the lube.” He rolled his hips down against Stiles, cock dragging against his crack.

 

“What do I have to apologize for?” He had done nothing wrong.

 

Damian sighed. “That’s proof enough.”

 

“What? No!” Stiles tried to move away from Damian, but he pushed in, making Stiles clench and attempt to curl in on himself.

 

Damian wiggled and thrust in, grinning as Stiles screamed. “Perfect.” Damian groaned and thrust all the way in, listening to Stiles sob. Damian bit his lip, savoring the moment, pressing the gun to Stiles’s back for a second.

 

Stiles’s breathing hitched.

 

“I don’t need this anymore, do I Stiles? You’re going to lie there and let me do what I want, right?”

 

Stiles bit his lip, trying to keep the tears at bay.

 

“Stiles?” The gun moved up towards the base of his skull.

 

“No.” He gasped. “You-you don’t need it.”

 

The gun was pulled away from Stiles’s flesh.

 

“You’re hot.” Damian gave slow rolls of his hips. He pulled back a little before thrusting in, deep into Stiles. “Really should have done this before if I had known you were going to be so much trouble.” He shifted, and then set up a hard, pounding pace.

 

Stiles clenched his eyes shut, crying into the bed sheets.

 

Damian moaned, pulling on Stiles’s cuffed hands, yanking on his shoulders.

 

Stiles grunted. He tried to block the movements out, to ignore Damian. Stiles tried to picture Lydia, imagine her comforting him, running her hands over his body, checking for wounds.

 

Damian groaned. “You feel so good.”

 

Stiles shivered.

 

Damian sped up his thrusts, pounding hard and fast into Stiles.

 

Stiles was snapped from his thoughts. “St-stop!”

 

Damian paused. “What was that? Did you need something Stiles?” He brushed over Stiles’s prostate, earning a high-pitched moan and Stiles pressed his face higher up the sheets. “I’ll take that to mean you want more.”

 

“N-no.” He wiggled and shook his head, and then groaned. He hadn’t finished what he wanted to say. “More.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“N-!” Stiles cried out as Damian pressed against his prostate twice more.

 

“Yeah, take me all you whore!”

 

Stiles could barely breathe.

 

Damian continued, pressing on Stiles’s prostate with every other thrust.

 

Stiles whined and tried to press himself against the sheets.

 

Damian groaned. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

 

Stiles panted, turning to wipe the tears against his bed, hiding his face from Damian.

 

Damian was sweating, it rolled down his face, his hair stuck to his head and he panted hard. He reached down to run his fingers over Stiles’s hard cock.

 

Stiles jerked and mumbled, “Don’t.”

 

Damian didn’t listen, stroked Stiles slowly as he continued thrusting.

 

It was only a few moments longer before Damian stilled and came with a grunt, spilling into Stiles.

 

Stiles whimpered, trying to pull himself away from Damian.

 

“No, you didn’t finish.”

 

“I don’t want to. Damian, don’t make me…” Stiles cut himself off with a moan as Damian pumped faster. Stiles couldn’t help and roll his hips against Damian’s hand and soon enough he came dry, crying into the sheets, body shuddering.

 

Damian snorted and pulled out.

 

Stiles flinched.

 

Damian sighed and tucked himself away, then pulled out his cell phone and took a picture of his come dribbling out of Stiles’s red hole. Damian rolled Stiles onto his back.

 

Stiles turned to look at his wall, he wouldn’t look at Damian. His eyes slid to Damian after he heard the click of the picture app.

 

Damian got up. “See you in school tomorrow Stiles.” He walked out.

 

Stiles knew he should get up and move, try to get out of the cuffs, try to stop Damian. But he just lay there until the front door shut.

 

Stiles sobbed and sat up. He worked his hands slowly under his butt, ignoring the smear of Damian’s come. His muscles ached at the odd position, but then he pulled his arms around his legs and popped the tab on the cuffs. He sniffed back the tears and reached for the phone on his nightstand. There was already a dark mark from where the gun had contacted his hand. He picked up the phone and called Lydia, though he wasn’t sure why. He had her number memorized.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Lydia.” Stiles swallowed, suddenly not sure what to say.

 

“Stiles, has something else happened?”

 

“What?”

 

“If you’re calling, I assume this is about the-“

 

“No, no it’s not.”

 

“Then what is it about?”

 

“C-can you come over?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Stiles knew she was going to ask what was wrong. “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone.”

 

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

“Thanks.” Stiles hung up and wrapped his arms about himself. He wanted to shower, but he didn’t want to move.

 

He sat there, unaware of time passing, rethinking everything that had happened and occasionally wiping the water from his eyes. He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard Lydia call his name. “In my room!” He looked out the window, it was getting towards the late afternoon, and the sun would be setting in a few hours.

 

Lydia came up the stairs and down the hall. “Stiles?”

 

He didn’t look up, didn’t care that he was naked. He hoped she couldn’t smell the spunk.

 

Lydia slowly came into his room, glancing at the bullet hole in the wall. “What happened?” She came over to him, gingerly laid a hand on his shoulder.

 

He recoiled, pulling away. “Sorry, I just-I don’t want to be touched right now.”

 

She noticed the blood on his shoulder. “Who did this to you?”

 

Stiles shook, feeling a new rush of tears. The last time he had cried this often in one day was when his mom died. “Damian.”

 

Lydia sat down next to him and he turned, crying into her arms. Lydia gingerly put her arms around Stiles and let him cry. “I knew there was something about him.”

 

Stiles let out a broken laugh.

 

After a few moments Lydia said, “We should call someone. Maybe Jordan-“

 

“No, he was already here.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Stiles sat up, pulling from her embrace, as much as he didn’t want to. “Damian had a gun, he got me in the arm, that’s why there’s blood on my arm…Neighbors heard the shots and called the police. Parrish came out, but I didn’t want him to deal with a hostage situation and I didn’t know what Damian would do. So, I lied, I told Parrish to leave.” Stiles ran his clean hand through his hair.

 

“Then we have to call your dad.”

 

Stiles glanced at her. “Could you-could you do it for me? I don’t think I can…I don’t want to tell my dad…”

 

Lydia nodded and pulled out her cell phone. She called the station, linking to Noah’s line. “Hi, Mr. Stilinski, it’s Lydia.” She sounded so polite when she was going to have to tell him Stiles had been assaulted. There was silence for a moment while Noah talked. “No, it’s not about that, as far as I know nothing’s accelerated…”

 

Stiles’s eyes widened. _What is she talking about?_

 

“Actually, I’m here with Stiles. Uh, I-I’m afraid-yes.” She turned to Stiles. “He doesn’t want to talk right now.”

 

Stiles hoped his dad wouldn’t get mad. Lydia didn’t need that, she was just the messenger. Stiles snorted, how fitting considering she was a banshee.

 

“Well you see, there was a boy from school named Damian, and he-he raped Stiles.” She flinched. “I don’t know, everyone calls him Bat-boy. But I’m sure…I don’t know if-Ok.” She turned and handed her cell phone to Stiles. “He really wants to talk to you.”

 

Stiles took the phone and pressed it to his ear. “Dad.”

 

“Stiles, what happened? How did that kid get in the house?”

 

“I kind of let him in.”

 

“Do you know him?”

 

“Sort of. He also kind of pushed his way in.”

 

Noah sighed. “He’s the reason our neighbors heard gun shots, isn’t it?”

 

Stiles stared at the carpet. “Yeah.”

 

“Parrish was-“

 

“I didn’t want him involved."

 

“He could have stopped this kid.”

 

Stiles winced. _Yeah, maybe he could have. I fucked up so bad_. “Dad.” His voice wavered. “I’m sorry; I should have let Parrish in. I-I did this to myself. If I had just let Parrish sick his hound self on Damian…”

 

“Stiles, hey, no. You’re not to blame here, Damian is.” Noah lowered his voice. “Tell me one thing, is he, you know, supernatural or anything?”

 

Stiles sniffed. “No, he’s human. Which is why I should have done something!”

 

“Stiles.” Noah sighed. “It’s going to be ok, you didn’t do anything wrong. We’ll find him and put him where he belongs.”

 

“Thanks.” Stiles glanced at Lydia. “Um, should we document the evidence?”

 

“The evi-yes. We have to make sure it can be taken to trial.”

 

“Can Lydia stay here until you get back home?” Stiles felt like he was eight and asking for a friend to stay for a sleepover instead of needing emotional support.

 

“If she doesn’t need to go home, she can stay as long as she wants.”

 

“Thanks dad.”

 

“Alright, I’ll call the principal, as much as he doesn't want to be disturbed I'm sure. But we have to try to find this Damian.”

 

“Don’t work too hard.”

 

There was a pause, then Noah said, “I love you Stiles, you know that, right?”

 

Stiles choked out a sob. “Yeah, love you too.”

 

“Ok, take care of yourself kid; I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

 

They said goodbye and Stiles ended the call, handing the phone back to Lydia.

 

“Do you want to...?”

 

Stiles looked at her.

 

“...take the pictures now?”

 

“You don’t mind?” Stiles blinked, a little surprised.

 

“You can’t do it, that’s biased. And I don’t think you want to get up.”

 

Stiles shook his head. “But I’m naked.”

 

“If it bothered me I wouldn’t have sat down next to you.” She was right. She held her phone. “I’ll get the bullet hole first.” She got up.

 

“I think he slammed the front door when he came in…”

 

Lydia took the picture and turned to Stiles. “You’ll be ok if I-?”

 

Stiles nodded.

 

Lydia wandered out.

 

Stiles glanced at his come covered hand, the dark bruise, the indentations on his wrists from the cuffs…He shut his eyes. He heard Lydia come back and opened his eyes. He directed her to the foot of the bed, the semen staining on the sheets, his knuckles, and the rest of his body.

 

Afterwards, Lydia sat next to Stiles again. “Do you want to shower now?”

 

Stiles bit his lip.

 

“I’ll be right here.”

 

Stiles nodded and got up with a wince and a small groan. He walked out of his room and to the bathroom.

 

Lydia opened Stiles’s dresser drawers and pulled out a hoodie and some boxers.

 

Stiles showered, enjoying the hot water pattering on his skin and washing all traces of Damian away. He tried to not think, to not dwell on the forming bruises. He was almost finished when he heard the door open. He paused and shut the water off. He pushed the curtain back and saw a pile of clothes sitting on the closed toilet. He smiled and got out, grabbing a towel to dry off. He got dressed and went back into his room.

 

Stiles frowned, it stank like sex and it was a mess and he couldn’t stop staring at the bed.

 

Lydia took hold of his arm and turned him to the door. “Why don’t we watch TV till your dad gets home?”

 

Stiles nodded and they went downstairs.

 

When Noah came home he found Stiles and Lydia asleep on the couch together.

 

Stiles had managed to roll onto his stomach and Lydia was pressed between him and the couch.

 

There was something on the TV, on mute flashing across them.

 

Noah went to turn the TV off and cover them when Stiles made a distressed noise. Noah turned to him.

 

Stiles was whimpering in his sleep, whole body clenched. He tossed and turned, then before Noah could help, fell off onto the floor. “Ow.” Stiles sat up and looked around, rubbing his face. He spotted Noah.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “Did you find Damian?”

 

“I got a hold of Scott and Malia, asked them if they knew him, what he looked like. I didn’t want to bother Lydia again about details.”

 

Stiles sat up. “Dad, did you find him or not?”

 

Noah sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, he really didn’t want to be found. The school had to give us his last name and then Scott chased him through the woods…He had pictures of you on his phone.”

 

Stiles flinched. “Yeah, he did that when he-“

 

“They had to be from far away, at the school, outside the house…” Noah sounded disturbed and confused.

 

There had been more? Damian had just been adding to his collection as a stalker?

 

“There were even some when you were passed out asleep.”

 

Stiles shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. “Can we change the locks on the doors?”

 

Noah nodded. “I’m sure Malia wanted to kill him. Scott held her back. Damian was…he was terrified. He didn’t know what he was seeing, nearly jumped into my arms at the sight of Malia. He couldn’t understand how I wasn’t scared. He begged to be locked up, away from the monsters.”

 

Stiles humphed, rubbing at his sore wrists. “Good, it’s the least he deserves.”

 

Noah put a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you if he settles out of court.”

 

“Considering he’s a minor? Probably.”

 

They sat there for a moment and watched the TV on a low volume.

 

Lydia stirred and rolled over, waking up. She sat up and Noah got up from where he had been sitting on the floor next to Stiles.

 

“Get to bed soon, ok?”

 

Stiles nodded.

 

Noah walked out of the room.

 

Lydia slid down next to Stiles. She had pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around Stiles’s shoulders. “Do you want me to leave?”

 

Stiles shook his head. “I probably won’t sleep but I’ll feel better with you here.”

 

“I’m sorry he hurt you.”

 

Stiles itched his ankle. “He’s not ok. He’s a stalker and…” Stiles shrugged. “There’s nothing to excuse what he did.”

 

“Do you want me to tell Scott and the others?”

 

Stiles bit his lip. “Um maybe not what he did. You can leave it at he hurt me.”

 

Lydia gave a nod.

 

They stared at the TV for a few moments. “You’re going to be ok Stiles.”

 

“I know. It’ll just take time.” Time he really didn’t have for therapy when the town needed saving.

 

“If you want to just talk…”

 

Stiles smiled softly. “Thanks Lydia.”

 

She got back on the couch and eventually Stiles did too.

 

Noah turned the TV off when he came to check on them later. He tugged the blanket to cover the two kids and went to his bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me if I missed a tag.  
> I'm on tumblr, I'm shippperfiendobssesser


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